Flying Off the Handle, Jumping to Conclusions
by OughtaKnowBetter
Summary: Chapter 4 posted, and story's complete. Good enough ending?
1. Default Chapter

Flying Off the Handle, Leaping to Conclusions

By OughtaKnowBetter

            "Are you crazy?"

            Lexa  slammed both fists against Jesse's chest, knocking him off of his feet. He skidded several feet across the tiled floor and slid to a halt by knocking up against the wall. The picture frame above his head teetered and threatened to drop.

            "Are you out of your skull?" she yelled again. Tears flew off of her face as she stood over the molecular, and Lexa ignored them. This was Lexa, cold-as-ice Lexa, hard-as-nails Lexa, the woman who didn't care about the people around her. She only cared about getting the job done. Everyone else needed to look out for themselves, because that's what she did. And right now, one of Mutant X had gotten himself into big trouble, and Lexa shouldn't have cared a fig. _So why am I going wild like this?_ "What the hell did you think you were doing?"

            Jesse scrambled to his feet, arms up to defend himself, ready to lash back. The computer on which he'd been working beeped forlornly for attention. "What are you talking about? I haven't done anything."

            "The hell you haven't! They caught you on tape, Jesse! Video tape! They have it all down in living color, with you as the star! What were you doing there?"

            Understanding dawned: cold, stark reality. Jesse paled. "They caught me on tape? She swore the cameras were turned off."

            "I guess she lied to you, didn't she? I guess this means that you can add stupidity and gullibility to your list of shortcomings, too. Nice going, Jesse. I hope she was pretty. It would be a shame to get suckered in by an ugly face."

Jesse ignored Lexa's barbs. "I've got to get to her. Out of my way, Lexa. I don't have time for this."

But Lexa wouldn't let him past. "You really screwed up this time, Jesse. You couldn't even give me a hint of what you were doing? What made you think you could get away with it? All we can hope is that the rest of us aren't going to get killed by your idiocy."

            "Nobody else is involved, and certainly not you, Lexa. This is a private matter. Back off."

            Brennan and Shalimar sauntered in, attracted by the noise.

            "What's going on here?" Brennan inquired, not certain if he was ready to get involved. Didn't seem like a lover's spat, not that either combatant had ever gone that far. Besides, he'd thought that both Jesse and Lexa were keeping any chemistry between them inside the test tube and not out in the open air. Sensible of Jesse, Brennan had thought, considering Lexa's allegiance to the shadowy Dominion. Not an easy lady to get close to.

            "Ask him," Lexa replied bitterly. "Go ahead. Ask him what he was doing last night."

            "Jesse?" Shalimar looked from one to the other.

            "You had no business prying into my personal life, Lexa," Jesse snarled.

            "No? I do if it's Dominion business," she shot back.

            "This is not Dominion business. Never has been, and never will, so get off my case."

            "Jesse, you're jeopardizing the future of all mutants! What ever possessed you to do such a stupid thing?" Volume control rising; Lexa tried to rein herself in. It wasn't easy.

            "Since when is helping a friend a stupid thing? You and your precious Dominion seem to know everything. Why don't you ask them?" Jesse slapped the power button on the computer, turning it off with reckless disregard for shut-down protocols. "I _so_ do not have time for this, Lexa. If I was caught on tape then I need to move _now_, so stay out of my way." He stormed away down the corridor, angry footsteps echoing in the cavernous hall.

            "Jesse!" Shalimar called after the retreating figure, but Jesse didn't acknowledge her.  She turned back to the light elemental. "Lexa? What's going on?"

            "Jesse's turned rogue, that's what's happened."

            Brennan's jaw nearly hit the floor. "Are we talking about the same Jesse Kilmartin who just exited, stage left? Straight-as-an-arrow Kilmartin, always looking out for the other guy Kilmartin?"

            "Amazing how he fooled you, too," Lexa said sarcastically. "Makes you wonder how long this has been going on."

            Shalimar shook her head in exasperation, blonde curls flying. "How long has _what_ has been going on? Make sense, Lexa. What is it that Jesse has supposed to have done?"

            The smile on Lexa's face had more anger in it than anything else. "See for yourself." She punched several buttons on the computer keyboard, the same unit that Jesse had just shut down. It took too long for the machine to warm up, but none of the three mutants were going anywhere.

            Lexa accessed the video camera security files from a bank. The files had clearly been sent to her only recently. "Community Finance Bank," she tossed in, "from last night. Watch." As if the other two expected to do anything else.

            The cameras were trained on the entrance hallway to the safety deposit vault of the bank. The hallway looked common and straightforward: thick steel doors that would take more than a small amount of explosive to do more than polish the chrome finish. The doors were closed; Lexa fast forwarded past the three couples and then two singletons who disappeared in and out earlier in the day doing their business with the safety boxes. The light in the corridor took on a subtly darker shade as the afternoon edged toward night. There was a long period of nothing—one security guard made his ambling and bored after hours rounds—and then three people entered.

            Two were unrecognizable and the stockings that they wore over their heads made them more so. The third, however, looked familiar despite his attempt at masking his features. The shoulders were broad, the waist narrow; even the shirt worn loosely and untucked looked disturbingly identifiable. The stocking tried to hide the even features, but couldn't do much to disguise the sandy colored hair. Brennan and Shalimar exchanged unhappy glances. What could Jesse have been doing in the bank vault after hours?

            Lexa didn't let them wonder for long. The tape moved on. Jesse stepped forward and placed both hands against the thick steel vault door. He paused to collect himself, exhaled, and phased.

            The vault door crumbled into its constituent molecules, ending up as a pile of iron dust on the floor at his feet.

            Jesse stepped over the mess, followed by the other pair. They entered, and clearly knew which safety deposit box they were after. Jesse phased open the selected box and pulled it out of its slot, and the watching trio could almost hear the tinkle of the iron shards as the remnants of the deposit box cover bounced onto the floor. One of the others opened the inner canister and withdrew what looked to be some sort of small blue plastic computer disk. Jesse held it up to the light, and his victorious smile could be seen even through the stocking mask. He pocketed the disk, and the trio beat an unhurried retreat.

            Lexa stopped the recording, leaving it on freeze frame. Jesse's masked features leered out at them from the computer screen. The identification wouldn't stand up in a court of law, but the hair color, the tilt to the head, the general dimensions—all Jesse Kilmartin. "Comments, anyone?"

            "I don't believe it," Shalimar said. "There has to be some mistake. That can't have been Jesse."

            "Yeah," Brennan put in. "I mean, look at the guy. He's wearing the stocking mask, you can't really see his features—"

            "Wake up, Brennan. How many bank robbers can phase through solid steel? So where _was_ Jesse last night when this was going down?" Lexa broke in. "More to the point, why won't he _tell_ us where he was? If he wasn't there," and she pointed to the frozen picture on the computer screen, "then why won't he tell us where he was?"

            "He must have a good reason," Shalimar insisted. "This is not Jesse Kilmartin that we're looking at. I don't care what you think, Lexa. That's not Jesse!"

            "It doesn't matter what I think," Lexa said darkly. "Not any more. It's what the Dominion thinks."

            "I don't care—"

            "You'd better care," Lexa cut her off brusquely. "The Dominion told me to kill him. Just now. Terminate him, they said. He's a liability. Get the computer disk that he took from that safety deposit box, and remove him from the equation. Permanently."

            "Going to do it?" Brennan's voice held a world of warning.

            Lexa wasn't cowed. "I haven't decided. I need to recover the computer disk first."

            "We need to talk to Jesse first," Shalimar said.

            "Go ahead. Get him to tell you why he did what he did. And where the computer disk is. If we give the Dominion the computer disk right now, maybe I can persuade them not to have him executed."

*          *            *

            Brennan rapped on the door. "Jess? Jess, come out, man. This is serious, Jesse."

            No answer. The door to Jesse's room stayed shut. Lexa cocked an I-told-you-so look at Brennan and Shalimar.

            Shalimar rapped harder. "Jesse, it's Shal. We need to talk to you. Tell us what's going on."

            Still no answer. Shalimar tried the door. Locked. Lexa folded her arms. With an uncomfortable look at Shalimar, Brennan zapped the lock with a small burst of electricity. The lock sprang open, and Brennan pushed the door ajar.

            The room looked like Jesse himself, tasteful and well-appointed but slightly disheveled in an artful style. There was a painting on the wall that, to Brennan's untutored eye, looked quite a bit more expensive than the dime-store poster variety. A formless sculpture that nevertheless made him think of a bird taking flight sat on a table just off center, perfectly placed for maximum impact. The bed linens were still rumpled; Jesse hadn't bothered to straighten them.

            Of Jesse himself there was no sign. And on the table, next to the sculpture, was his comm. ring. The message was clear: _leave me alone_.

            "Bolted?" Lexa said, carefully avoiding the I-told-you-so tone.

            "His clothes are still here." Shalimar pulled open the closet. "Where ever he's gone, he's planning on coming back."

            _Unless he didn't think he had time to pack_, was the unvoiced rejoinder.

            "Look for the computer disk," Lexa ordered, suiting actions to words.

            But both Brennan and Shalimar held back. "This doesn't feel right," Shalimar said. "I mean, this is Jesse's room. We're invading his privacy."

            Lexa kept on going. "The Dominion will be invading a lot more than his privacy if we don't find out what going on." She straightened up. "Does this sound like the actions of an innocent man? Jesse won't say where he was last night. There's a man caught robbing a bank who looks an awful lot like him. And—_dear God_," she broke off, staring at the contents of the dresser drawer.

            "Lexa?"

            The others came up behind her to stare in horror at the contents. It was filled with stacks of bills: twenties, fifties, and hundreds, all neatly wrapped with paper bands across the middle.

            Lexa was the first to find her voice. "I think we'd better search this place very carefully for the computer disk."

*          *            *

            It was frustrating, but Jesse parked the car almost a mile away from the estate. He couldn't risk it being spotted. Not now, when Lexa had told him that he'd been caught on video tape. Jesse cursed under his breath—she'd promised that she'd turned the cameras off. Elena was desperate, desperate to escape, and compromising her ticket out wasn't what Jesse would have expected.

            He left the car under some long hanging branches to let the vehicle hide in plain sight. The estate was surrounded by a thick brick wall, but that was no barrier to Jesse Kilmartin. Placing a hand against the wall he centered himself, exhaled, and phased. The wall went insubstantial, and he slipped through the very molecules themselves to arrive inside the estate.

            Still had to be careful. There were guards with guns patrolling. Setting off an alarm now would ruin everything. And since Elena didn't know that he was coming, she wouldn't know to turn off the security cameras on the estate. He wondered what had happened the last time. Perhaps she didn't know how to turn them off? Or one of the guards had noticed, and turned them back on? He scuttled from bush to tree, sometimes crawling along the ground and once lying absolutely silent beneath a rhododendron while a pair of guards strolled past, oblivious to his presence.

            Again he phased through a wall, this one into the house itself. He had already determined the spot closest to where Elena spent most of her hours, and that forethought served him well again. He ended up in a coat closet near the stairs, listening for several more long minutes to be certain that he hadn't been detected.

            Jesse let himself into Elena's suite, closing the door silently behind him. He could hear Elena breathing behind him but hers was the only one. They were alone.

            "Jesse?" she whispered, voice trembling. "What's wrong? Why are you here?"

            "We have to go now," Jesse said harshly, keeping his own voice down. "They caught me on the security cameras patrolling the estate. A friend back home told me. We have to—what did he do to you?" Jesse caught her hand, turning Elena to him.

            Elena tried to turn away, to hide.

            "He hit you." Jesse felt his blood boil. The black bruise across her cheek was the unmistakable evidence of what he had known was going on but had no proof. "I'll kill him."

            "Jesse, don't. Just leave it. Please, Jesse. Just get us out of here, please?" Elena pulled away. "I don't want you to be hurt."

            Jesse took hold of himself. Now was not the time to go off half-cocked. He needed to get them all out safely. "You're right. But, Elena, why didn't you turn off the cameras like you said?"

            Elena looked puzzled. "Jesse, I did. I swear it."

            "You couldn't have. My friend had the video tape."

            Elena started to shake. "Raymond must have a second set, or separate controls. I turned them off, Jesse!"

            "Shh, shh, I believe you," Jesse soothed. "Get little Nicky. Let's go."

            She bit her lip, and nodded.

            It didn't take much. The only thing she was taking with her was a small diaper bag, and the four month old baby who went with it. Nicky stared at Jesse with the solemnity of his youth, dark eyes dancing over the man's face, searching for familiar features. Jesse felt a pang of regret, then steeled himself. If they left Nicky behind, he'd grow up to be like his father. Or be battered like his mother, or both. Jesse refused to allow that to happen.

            "You still have the money I gave you?" Elena's voice was getting more nervous, if that was possible, now that flight was actually happening.

            Jesse nodded. "Back home. Let's concentrate on getting out of here." He led her downstairs, darting back to avoid the guards patrolling even inside the house, and phasing them out through solid wall. Elena swallowed hard at this evidence of her escort's uniqueness, but gamely plodded on. Anything, even this scary escape, was better than remaining where she was.

            At the car, Elena hesitated. "There's no car seat," she said.

            Jesse had to suppress an angry retort. It was an automatic reflex on Elena's part; she hadn't been out of the house, she'd said, since Nicky was born. Her husband had kept her locked up and isolated.

            "We don't have one," Jesse said gently. "You'll have to hold him. Look, he's already fallen asleep."

            "Kids do that," she responded. Jesse recognized the signs of being overwhelmed; there was too much going on for her to comprehend more than the simplest and most straightforward of tasks. He ground his teeth: Raymond Kruger had much to answer for. Elena had never been like this, not when they were growing up as kids. The bright young girl that had been a childhood sweetheart during his tenth summer had disappeared into this frightened young woman desperate to save herself, and her child. He put her into the car, tucking both her and her son in securely before getting into the driver's seat.

            He couldn't take her back to Sanctuary, as he'd first intended when Elena's best friend had contacted him. That was out; Lexa and the Dominion had seen to that. He wondered what the connection was between the Dominion and Raymond Kruger, then put that thought aside. It could wait for a better time, when Elena and Nicky were safe.

            Jesse himself would have to return to Sanctuary at some point, some point soon, to collect the money that Elena had squirreled away for herself and Nicky for this exact moment. It looked substantial: Raymond's activities garnered him a lot of wealth as well as a hefty amount of attention from the local police force. But Jesse knew how quickly a young mother and child could go through even that quantity. He would have to help her set up in some place where she could make it last as long as possible. Jesse had tried to persuade Elena to go to the authorities, to get into the Witness Protection Program, but she would have none of it. _They'd track me down, Jesse_, she'd said. _They'd kill me, and take Nicky back to Raymond. That would be the worst, knowing that my son would grow up doing what Raymond does._

            He pulled in beside an abandoned warehouse. At least, it appeared abandoned. Elena looked at him, raising her eyebrows.

            "It's all right," he reassured her. "It looks better on the inside." _I hope_, he added to himself. It had been a long time since he'd been here himself. It was one of Mutant X's old safe houses, a place where they could stash frightened mutants en route to a safer place. Jesse himself had lost count of the people he'd brought to this very building back in happier times, when Adam Kane was running the underground. If Jesse was right, this place would be a little dusty but warm and dry and still ready for temporary occupancy. Just the place for Elena and Nicky to stay while he returned to Sanctuary to get her money.

            "All right," she said doubtfully, clutching the infant to her.

*          *            *

            "The Dominion is sending you back up," the bearded man told her. The computer screen crackled; the connection had been re-routed through several different points. It didn't make any difference. The meaning got through.

            "I don't need back up," Lexa replied irritably. "I can handle this."

            "Have you re-acquired the disk?"

            "You know I haven't."

            "Has Kilmartin been terminated?"

            "I'm working on it." Guilty pang.

            "The decision has been made. Back up will be arriving shortly."

            "Fine," Lexa snapped. "Tell 'em to stay out of my way."

            "No, Ms. Pierce. Let me make myself perfectly clear. A Back-Up Squad has been sent. You stay out of _their_ way. You are a valuable employee of the Dominion, but not so valuable that you are irreplaceable." He ended the connection abruptly.

            Lexa stared at the blank screen, her face paling. A bad situation had suddenly gotten a whole lot worse.

*          *            *

            Shalimar stared at the twentieth replaying of the bank video tape. "That's not him," she muttered under her breath. "That's not him."

            Brennan spared her a quick look. "Then help me prove it, Shal." He fiddled with the computer keyboard, striving for the same level of competency that he'd seen Jesse display over and over. It was slow going. Frame by frame, he enlarged and enhanced the pictures of Jesse, pouring over each one, looking for something that would prove that the figure on the screen was not Jesse Kilmartin. Arms were the best bet; perhaps this mystery man would have a tattoo that Jesse didn't, or a scar. Brennan refused to believe that he had been so wrong about the man he called his best friend.

            "I am." Shalimar sat back and studied the moving images from a different angle. The three masked figures paced up and down the hallway, forward and back as the feral reversed and played the tape over and over again. "He doesn't phase right. He didn't put the molecules back the way he found them. Jesse always does that."

"Maybe he had a reason to leave dust on the floor." Brennan concentrated on scanning the blown up image.

Shalimar continued her perusal, musing over tantalizing tidbits. "He doesn't move like Jesse does."

            "How does that help us?"

            "I don't know." She changed her position once again, still studying the action. "He doesn't move the same way."

            "All right, I'll bite. How is this guy different?"

            It took several long moments for Shalimar to answer. "He's not as home in his skin as Jesse."

            "Not admissible in a court of law, Shal."

            "Give me a minute. I'm still watch—it's his gait! It's the way he walks! He takes smaller steps." Shalimar sat bolt up straight. "It's really not Jesse! It's not him!"

            "You've already convinced me. Now convince a jury."

            "If he takes smaller steps, he has shorter legs."

            Brennan caught on at once. "Shorter legs means shorter height." He fiddled with the screen, persuading the computer to apply some measurements, judging the masked man's height against the standardized concrete cinder blocks that made up the wall. "That's it, Shal! You've got it. This guy is only five foot six. He's inches shorter than Jesse!"

            "C'mon." Shalimar stopped the tape. "Let's go tell Lexa so that she can clear up this mess with the Dominion."

            "No need." Lexa lounged in the doorway, deceptively at ease. "I heard."

            "Good," Shalimar said eagerly. "You can tell the Dominion to go take a hike."

            Lexa didn't move. "What about the computer disk?"

            "Jesse doesn't have it. He didn't rob the bank."

            "What about the money? Going to tell me that he's been saving his pennies all of his life?"

            Brennan started to get exasperated. "Cut him some slack, Lexa. There's a perfectly above board explanation for that money. Shal and I just proved that it's not Jesse on that tape; he's innocent. Call off the Dominion."

            Lexa looked unhappy. "Wish I could. Matters have gotten out of my hands."

            "Which means—?"

            "Which means that the Dominion was not best pleased that Jesse ran off. In fact, it solidified their suspicions that it was our favorite molecular who pinched the computer disk. They've called in the big guns to resolve the matter."

            "Tell them they're wrong, Lexa. That Jesse is innocent. Have 'em call their people back."

            Lexa looked even more unhappy. "I can't."

            "And why not?" Brennan suddenly got a lot more threatening.

            "Because I've been cut off." Lexa seemed smaller. At the pair's disbelieving stare, she added, "I was supposed to terminate Jesse last night. I didn't. Now the Dominion doesn't trust me. Not that they ever trust anyone, but I'm less an asset now and more of a liability." She sighed, and Brennan and Shalimar could see the decision to come clean taking place inside. "They've sent out a Back-up Squad."

            Brennan looked at Shalimar with concern. "Why do I hear capital letters when she says that? What am I missing?"

            "The Back-up Squad's job," said Lexa, "is to remove the problem by force, and to eliminate anyone or anything that stands in their way. Scorched earth policy. And, Brennan," she added, "they know everything about Sanctuary's defenses."


	2. Flying Off the Handle 2

            "That wasn't the deal." Raymond Kruger's voice tended to rise when upset, and right now he was working toward high C. It didn't matter that this was one of the finer restaurants in town; Kruger had a back room reserved at all times for whatever purpose he chose. It pleased him to have this evidence of his wealth and power, this ability to drop in unannounced at an expensive establishment and be on a first name basis with the maitre d'—who of course always referred to him as 'Mr. K.' Dinner with some of his subordinates had been on tonight's agenda, and those subordinates had been dismissed to the outer chamber while Kruger dealt with this problem that had walked in on him unannounced.

            "Too bad." The young man was unimpressed with Raymond's histrionics. The uninvited guest was broad-shouldered, a bit on the short side with sandy hair falling into his eyes, and, truth be told, a bit on the seedy side. And worse, bellowing failed to intimidate him. He folded his arms in a gesture of finality. "I want twenty million. And ten million each for the others. Otherwise I'll hold an ebay auction for the highest bidder." He smirked. "Cute. Computer auction for a computer disk. Maybe I'll do it anyway." He grinned again. "C'mon, pops," he said, even though Raymond was a bare ten years older than he, "you know that you're going to get three times that amount from your buyer, whoever that is. I just want my share."

            "Your share," Raymond gritted out, "is what I say it is." He dropped his voice, trying to sound deadly. "You remember the horse head in the bed thing, from _The Godfather_? When do you think he got the idea?"

            Play time was over. The young man turned cold. "Not from you, pops." He picked up a glass still half-filled with a deep red wine. "You see this? I want you to think about this while you get my money." He concentrated, his even features going hooded. The wine glass dissolved into silicon sand, the wine dribbling onto the white table linens and staining them beyond repair. He wiped his hand carelessly on the napkin dropped onto the table, ruining it as well. Then he stood up and regarded Kruger with an icy stare. "Tomorrow night, pops. Or a three day auction goes up on ebay."

*          *          *

            "Vacate," Lexa insisted. She turned off one computer, not waiting to see it finish the procedure before moving on to the next machine, telling it to give up its electronic life temporarily. "It's damage control time. We want to minimize the wreckage that's going to take place."

            "You want us to run away?" Brennan asked in disgust. He gestured to the open hallway gleaming around them, looking up at the light elemental standing just above his eye level on the staircase. "Lexa, Sanctuary is our home. We've defended it before, we can do it again."

            "You haven't gone up against a Back-Up Squad." No matter how many times she said it, the title always came out with capitals. She quelled the quiver she felt just saying the words. She had once—just once!—been on the clean up crew that had followed a Back-Up Squad after a mission. It had _literally_ been scorched earth. It was the first time that she had ever seen a human body burned to a cinder, and she counted herself fortunate that she had gotten through the mission and to the privacy of a bathroom before giving in to her appalled insides. "And use your brains for a change, Brennan. The Squad isn't interested in Sanctuary, or anything we have there. They want the computer disk, and Jesse. Not the three of us. We'll only be in their way, and people in their way tend to get killed. Our best plan of action is to leave the place entirely for a few hours while they search it. We'll even leave the defenses off while they work, to demonstrate our willingness to cooperate. Then we go back home and clean up the mess. And try to find Jesse before they do."

            "That part I can get behind," Shalimar said. "The part about finding Jesse, I mean. I'm not sure I like the thought of these people pawing through my things."

            "You don't have to like it, just live with it. And I'd like to emphasize the _live_ part. These people are not good to mess with, Shalimar. Sensible people stay out of their way." Lexa changed the subject to a safer one. "Let's try to find Jesse ourselves. Where would he have gone?"

            Brennan grimaced. "I feel like I'm betraying my best friend here." He sighed. "Jesse went out several times last week, after working on the computer. He never said where he went but he never looked happy when he returned. I didn't pay any attention at the time. Now I wish that I had. You're good with computers, Lexa.  I hate to ask this, but can you break into his e-mail? There's probably a clue there."

            "If I'm lucky," she replied, "and if he didn't do too much in the way of encryption. This could take time, which is what we don't have. We should be out of Sanctuary by now."

            "Take Jesse's laptop," Shalimar suggested. 

            Lexa brightened. "I'll try and trace his activity through that."

            But Brennan came up with another idea. "This other mutant, the one that's not Jesse. I'll see if I can put together a picture from the security cam videos and identify him."

            "Hope you can do it from the Helix's computer links," Lexa said, "because we are _so_ out of here."

*          *          *

            This was odd. Sanctuary was deserted.

            Well, maybe not so odd. Jesse had to be honest with himself; his last departure hadn't been the model of decorum. And if he'd confided in his team mates from the get go, he'd have had help in finding a place for Elena and her baby. The pair wouldn't have been stuck in an abandoned safe house. _Mistake, Kilmartin.__ Shoulda' trusted them_. Hadn't wanted to get them involved, in case Kruger came after them. This wasn't a Mutant X problem, it had been a Kilmartin problem. Still was. _Pretty noble, Kilmartin, but stupid.__ Real stupid._

The safe house had been dry but dusty; Elena had looked around doubtfully before cleaning a spot to lay Nicky down for another nap. The kid had been astonishingly good, as though he knew the stakes. Barely a whimper came through, and Jesse, without much experience with children, thought that that seemed unusual. No matter; he was grateful. Elena too was wiped out, and Jesse had settled her in with the strict admonishment not to go to the doors or open any of the window shades. Jesse triple locked everything. Getting in and out for _him_ was not an issue.

            So here, at Sanctuary, it was deserted. Jesse wondered if the others were out searching for him. He wouldn't put it past them, and felt guilty for not confiding in them. He'd even left his comm. ring behind, and felt guilty over that. He glanced around for the ring, feeling a moment's annoyance that it wasn't where he'd left it. Sure Lexa had been out of line, demanding that he tell her everything, but Brennan and Shalimar hadn't deserved the cold shoulder. 

            Then he recalled what Lexa had said. He'd been too anxious to get to Elena to pay attention, but Lexa had said that the Dominion was involved.

            That struck a wrong note. Why would the Dominion be interested in a small-time gangster and his battered wife? Setting up video surveillance on a local hood was something that the neighborhood cops would do, not a high-powered organization like the Dominion. Although it would explain why Jesse had been caught on tape: Elena had turned the estate cameras off as she'd said, but the Dominion would have had their own set, with Jesse in a featured role.

            This put a whole new light on things, and it became more important than ever to get Elena away before the Dominion went in to take out her husband in a very decisive and permanent fashion. Kruger must have done something to seriously annoy them, and people like that tended to not only get dead, but people around them died, too. Elena didn't deserve that, and Nicky was only an innocent baby. Maybe it was a good thing that Jesse had acted so quickly. Once he gathered up Elena's money he would have to see what he could find out. It might make a difference as to where he directed Elena to go hide.

            Sanctuary really did seem deserted, more so than any other time that Jesse had been here alone. Most of the time there were computers running, little bells and whistles chattering softly to themselves as they went about the business of dealing with the home of Mutant X. Most of the operating machinery had been shut down. Jesse wondered why the other three had done that.

            No time for idle thoughts. Jesse needed to pick up Elena's money and skedaddle. He ambled along the corridor to his room, not running but not wasting any time, either.

            The door to his room was ajar. Jesse felt a moment's worth of annoyance, then quashed it. _What did you expect? Lexa was pretty angry. And you didn't exactly answer any questions._

_            This was personal. Lexa had no right to demand answers._

            Annoyance grew as he surveyed his room. The lock was broken, and his things pawed through. That was going beyond all decency. He respected their privacy, and he expected them to respect his. Breaking in, he could see, but leaving his things like this was way out of line even for Lexa. Had they found Elena's money? He breathed a sigh of relief to find it all where he'd left it. The others might have found it—Jesse hadn't taken any especial pains to hide it under his clothes—but at least they left it where it was. He quickly picked it up and stuffed it into his pockets, making a small bundle from his jacket to carry the rest. He could vent his outrage later.

            Wait. He heard something. A small noise from outside in the corridor. Jesse turned toward the door. "Brennan?"

            No answer.

            Every red flag he possessed ran up the flag pole and screamed a warning. Deserted Sanctuary, all the machinery turned off. Jesse didn't like the feel of this whole situation. He picked up his jacket bundle, and quietly phased through the back wall of his room.

            Just in time to escape three bullets. They puffed through the space that he'd just occupied, and put three unlovely holes in the wall.

*          *          *

            "Hah!" The outburst came from Lexa, pouring over Jesse's laptop in an effort to persuade the little machine to give up Jesse's secrets. "Got it, you little piece of hard-wired slime."

            "I take it that means that you figured out Jesse's password," Shalimar observed.

            "Damn right. I should have known."

            "Translation: Jesse changes his passwords regularly, and has a system for remembering which password it is which you have just figured out."

            "Give the lady a cigar."

            "I don't smoke. What's his password?"

            "Magnesium."

            "And that's a system?"

            "Absolutely. His first password was hydrogen, the second helium. The sixth was carbon. Eighth was oxygen, ninth was fluorine. Catching on?"

            "The periodic table," Shalimar nodded. "Why am I not surprised? How about his e-mails? Any hints there as to where he is?"

            Lexa hunched over the little screen. "Now it's getting interesting. Jesse know anybody by the name of Elena?"

            "Well, duh."

            "Sorry. Let me re-phrase: do _we_ know anyone by the name of Elena who is a friend of Jesse's?"

            Shalimar shook her head. "Nope. Never mentioned her, although he doesn't talk a lot about his childhood. Neither do any of us. Somebody he met recently, maybe?"

            "Haven't a clue. Not yet. Let me keep poking around here. Brennan, you getting anywhere with the ID?"

            "Yeah." On his own computer screen in front of the co-pilot's seat, high above the city in the Helix with Shalimar piloting, Brennan was conducting his own research. "I've pulled together a probable sketch of our mystery mutant, and I'm running it through Sanctuary's database of mutants. Working—damn, the computer never seems so slow when Jesse's running it—working some more. Ah, got it." He leaned closer. "Dustin Harold Brightman, aka Dusty. Molecular, like Jesse, but while Jesse can alter the density of whatever he touches, Dusty here can only weaken the molecular bonds so that every molecule falls apart. Yeah, this sounds like our boy. It explains the dusty mess that he leaves behind as a calling card."

            _Groan_ from the Light Brigade. "Couldn't he have picked a better nickname?"

            "Last known address?" Shalimar kept her eyes on the controls of the Helix.

            Brennan gave it to her. "And step on it."

*          *          *

            _The good news is that every bullet they've aimed in my direction, with unerring accuracy I might add, has bounced off. The bad news is that phasing slows me down, and they're catching up._

            They had chased him out of Sanctuary and into the heart of town. Jesse walked swiftly down the sidewalk, trying not to look behind him, feeling the itch of a gun sight centered between his shoulder blades and praying that the men in black suits weren't prepared to open fire on a busy city street during late afternoon rush hour. That they were prepared to use guns was a given: Jesse had deflected at least six bullets back at Sanctuary. His only chance now was to lose them in the busy city. His car had been left behind as a dead giveaway. Red and wild, it was a magnet for every radar in the city.

            He couldn't get back to Elena. There would be no way that she could get away from these men, and Nicky would slow them down further. No, Jesse had to ditch the four men by himself before returning to the safe house. That they were from the Dominion was all but a given. Lexa had as good as told him that Elena's husband Raymond was involved with something that the Dominion wanted. Did they suspect Elena of having whatever it was? In which case the team of four men behind him would be determined not to lose their quarry who would supposedly lead them to Elena.

            _Not a chance, fella's_.

            He worried about the rest of Mutant X. Were they dead, killed by the four men in suits? That would explain the silence in Sanctuary. Jesse felt his heart clench with fear. This was not what he had expected when he'd stormed out of Sanctuary last night to rescue Elena. They couldn't be dead. The bodies would have been left behind as a warning to give himself up.

            He had to contact them. They had their comm. rings; he did not, and he regretted his hasty actions in leaving it behind last night. A single call would have cleared many things up very quickly. Well, Jesse Kilmartin wasn't licked yet. Just get him to an adequate computer set up, and he'd be able to set up a channel. Assuming they were alive. If they weren't…Jesse refused to consider that option.

            But first, he had to lose his shadows. Time to get serious. Jesse ducked into a men's clothing store and made sure that they saw him. Their pace quickened, anxious not to lose sight of their quarry. Jesse headed toward the wall; once there, he could phase through, and the quartet would lose valuable time going back out and around.

            It worked. Jesse phased out through a rack of imported over-priced European ties to stand in a grimy alley that stood between the clothing store and the pawn shop next door. Another quick phase, and he stood in front of a grouping of forlorn guitars given up to the pawn shop by their owners in favor of putting food on the table. He gave the high sign to the owner who gaped at him in astonishment, and made a beeline for the back. Once there, he phased through the back fence, trotted through another back alley lined with trash cans, and back onto busy city streets to mingle in with pedestrians striding swiftly home from work. Jumping onto a city bus completed his escape.

            Next step: contact Mutant X. Adam had had a small computer set up in the safe house where Elena and Nicky were staying. He hadn't checked, but it was likely to still be in working order. If he were exceptionally lucky, no one had broken in and stolen it. Jesse set his steps in that direction.

*          *          *

            "The name Kruger ring any bells?" Lexa asked, still peering at the computer screen.

            "No. Should it?" Shalimar continued to fly toward the address that Brennan had given her on Dusty Brightman.

            But Brennan had the answer. "Yeah. Raymond Kruger. He's a small time hood with aspirations to bigger and badder things. So far nobody's paid him any attention from the big leagues. Nasty temper, rumored to have killed a couple of people himself on the way up to being a big fish in a small town. How does Jesse know him?"

            "Not sure that he does. But he's been e-mailing Kruger's wife."

            "Wonderful," Brennan groaned. "Tell me he's the third in a triangle with a gangster's cheating wife. Way to go, Jess."

            "Looks like it," Lexa said grimly. "He's making plans to get her away from Kruger. Correction: after his little performance last night, I'll bet he's already done it. No wonder he wouldn't talk to us. Didn't want us to know that he was dancing with another man's wife."

            Shalimar caught on at once. "Of course. Man like Kruger, he has to have security cameras all over the place. Jesse naturally assumes, when you come in accusing him with the video of the bank robbery, that the tape is of Kruger's place. All he hears is 'video tape' and not the 'bank robbery' part. He panics, thinking that Elena is in danger, and goes running to her aid."

            "Now that sounds like Jesse," Brennan put in.

            "You know," Lexa grumbled, "for a bright guy, Jesse can be kind of stupid sometimes. Why couldn't he leave well enough alone? Falling in love with someone else's wife is not a good move, career or otherwise."

            Brennan moved on. "All right, we can assume that Jesse's hiding out somewhere with Kruger's wife. Where would he take her?"

            Brennan looked at Shalimar. Shalimar looked at Brennan. Together they chorused: "Safe house."

            "Hold on," Lexa said in alarm. "Don't turn the Helix around. We've got to check out this Dusty guy."

            "He can wait."

            "No, he can't," Lexa insisted. "Look, guys, think a moment. This mutant has the computer disk that the Dominion wants. Jesse is safe for now, hiding from Kruger but also hiding from the Back-Up Squad. If we can rescue the computer disk, we can give it back and I can talk really fast and hopefully the Dominion will call off the Squad."

            "Brennan?" Shalimar kept the Helix going in circles.

            Brennan sighed. "She's right, Shal. Head for this mutant dust bag. He's got to be the easier one to take down, compared to the Dominion."

*          *          *

            Jesse phased through the wall, not wanting to chance opening the door. "Elena?"

            "Jesse?" Elena came awake from her position on the sofa. Nicky was snuggled next to her, warm and comfortable, breathing noisily and enough to warm anyone's heart. A little puff of dust wafted up to twinkle in the fading sunlight that pried its way through the shuttered windows. "Did you get the money?"

            "Yeah." Jesse dropped his jacket onto the sofa next to her, pulling the rest out of his pockets. A packet or two slipped to the floor, and he bent over to pick them up. "Listen, Elena, I don't think we ought to stay here."

            "Raymond's found us?" Her eyes flew open with fear.

            "No, no," he hurried to assure her. "Not your husband. But…there are some men who are after me. I'm not sure why, and right now that's not important. What's important is to get you and Nicky someplace safe."

            "And where is that?" Suspiciously.

            Jesse squirmed. "Some place away from me." At her protest, he held up his hand. "I'm going to send you to some people I know a few hours from here. You'll go by bus. I'll take you and Nicky to the bus terminal, see you safely on the bus and out of here. My people are expecting you. They'll protect you and Nicky from Raymond. They're pretty good at hiding people on a very permanent basis."

            "But what about you, Jesse?" Elena pulled a sleeping Nicky close in an unconscious effort at comfort. The baby murmured, and settled himself more comfortably in her arms.

            "I'll be all right. If I have to deal with these people who are chasing me, I'd rather do it without having to worry about you." Jesse picked up the diaper bag and handed it to Elena. "Put the money in here. No one will ever look for it inside this bag. While you're doing that I need to check out the computer, see if I can get hold of some friends of mine."

            "They're going to help?"

            "I hope." _I really hope so. This has gotten bigger than I'd anticipated when I agreed to help you, Elena_. Lexa had been plenty upset. He went into the other room to find the computer. The set up was dustier than anything else in the safe house, or so it seemed, when he lifted the dust cover off. He held his breath while the thing booted up.

            The screen came on with a comforting chirp. Jesse started to feel more at ease. This might just work.

*          *          *

            Dusty Brightman had turned his place into a dump.

            It wasn't just the usual I-can't-be-bothered-to-pick-up-after-myself sort of home. It was truly a disaster. It took them a few moments to realize what was going on, but gradually it sunk in. There were piles of dust littering the floor all over the apartment in irregular spots but mostly to each side of the overstuffed chairs.

            It was Shalimar who finally made the connection. "He's practicing."

            "What?"

            "He's practicing his powers," she explained. "Look at these piles of dirt. They look like what was left after he went through the steel doors at the bank."

            "You're right." Brennan knelt to examine one of the dust piles, rubbing the particles between his fingers. "I'll bet this one used to be a pillow."

            "A couple of beer bottles over here," Lexa agreed. "This used to be green glass. How big an item can this guy take down?"

            "Bigger than a breadbox," Brennan said. "And bigger than a bank vault door. Beyond that, who knows?"

            Shalimar looked around, even sniffed the air, exploring. Her eyes turned feral, to better examine the devastation that Dusty Brightman had wrought. He'd left the bigger pieces of furniture alone, but Shalimar had a feeling that it was deliberate. Dusty might have been practicing, but he wasn't stupid. Turning all of his chairs to dust meant nothing to sit on, and chairs were expensive. The fact that he lived in a one room studio apartment suggested that money didn't exactly grow on trees for Dusty. The bank job sounded like his ticket to the easy life. She wondered how long he'd had his powers. Couldn't have been too long. 

            "I think," she said deliberately, "that we need to be extremely careful with this one." Brennan raised his eyebrows. "So far," she explained, "all we've seen him do is dust non-living things. Anyone want to hazard a guess as to what would happen if he got hold of something alive?"

            Lexa gave her a baleful look. "You come up with the most pleasant ideas, Shalimar."

            "We aim to please."

            Her comm. ring crackled, and Brennan's followed suit. "Shalimar? Brennan? You there?" It was hard to understand through the static, but there was no mistaking who it was. There was only one man alive who knew the frequency that the rings were tuned to.

            "Jesse!"

            "Where are you, man? Are you crazy, running off like that?" Brennan demanded.

            "Brennan, shut up and listen. Sanctuary's been compromised. There were some men in suits running around, taking shots at me. Are you guys okay?"

            "We're fine, but Jesse, you are in _big_ trouble," Lexa put in. "The Dominion wants you dead."

            "Dead? Me? Why? What did I do?"

            "You robbed a bank," Shalimar told him.

            "When? In my sleep?" Then it hit him. "Is that why those guys are shooting at me? They think I robbed a bank?" _Groan_. "Tell me the video tape that Lexa talked about was of the bank, not of a certain estate that I know."

            "Yup."

            "Uh…can someone tell them it wasn't me?"

            "Jess, they're not real big on the 'honesty is the best policy' concept. 'Shoot first and maybe ask questions when we get around to it' is more their speed." Brennan paused to think. "I think we'd better get together real fast, man. 'Safety in numbers', to keep working on the clichés."

            "I like that idea fine, Brennan, but I've got a problem—"

            "Does the problem have a last name like Kruger?" Lexa asked waspishly. Shalimar threw the light elemental a sharp look. There was a world of meaning in Lexa's words, more than a mere male ought be able to decipher.

            "Well… yeah. I've got to put her on a bus for nowhere, where she'll be safe, her and her baby. She's got a husband that makes a cockroach look noble. She needed to escape, and fast; too scared for the Witness Protection thing."

            "What?" Lexa was confused. "I thought you two were… That you… She…"

            Jesse's voice, when it came back on, held equal parts annoyance and amusement. "You thought that I was enticing her into cheating on her husband? You've got an exaggerated idea of my masculine charms, Lexa. Flattering, but wrong." He shifted back into business. "Now tell me why the Dominion wants to kill me. They usually don't get this peeved over a bank robbery."

            "They do if you steal a computer disk," Brennan said.

            "And I take it that this disk holds information that will destroy the world as we know it?"

            Lexa shrugged sheepishly.

            "Lexa says yes," Brennan translated.

            "And do we know where the disk is?"

            "We think it's in the possession of a mutant named Dusty Brightman."

            "Never heard of him."

            "Neither had we, until a few hours ago."

            "A mutant. What can he do?"

            "Turns things to dust."

            Groan. "Hence the name Dusty. Do we know where this Dustman is with the disk?"

            "We were kind of hoping you would."

            "And why would I know where he is? Don't tell me; let me guess. It's because I robbed the bank where the disk was."

            "You got it, bro."

            "This is really a mess," Jesse said. "Listen, I've got to take Elena and Nicky—"

            "Nicky? Who's Nicky?"

            "Nicky," Jesse explained, annoyed at being interrupted, "is Elena's four month old son. Who is currently sleeping, so keep your voices and the static down."

            "You've got a kid with you?"

            "An infant. You think dodging hit men is hard? Try taking care of a four month old. That's hard. Now, as I was saying, I've got to take Elena and Nicky to the bus terminal. Meet me there, and we'll trade information. Plan?"

            "Plan."


	3. Flying Off the Handle 3

            There weren't many people at the bus terminal this time of night, and that, thought Jesse, was a mixed blessing. It meant fewer people for him to scan for the four men who were chasing him, but a smaller crowd to hold them back if it turned to trouble. And that was assuming that the four men _cared_ about keeping a low profile while shooting Jesse. Elena carried Nicky in her arms, and Jesse slung the diaper bag with all the money over his shoulder, guiding her to a bench to sit. If worse came to worst, he'd draw their fire away from Elena and Nicky so that the pair could escape unharmed. Elena had a scarf over her dark hair that partially covered her face. Anyone coming into the terminal would have to look closely to identify her; they should be safe from both the unknown gunmen and her soon-to-be-ex.

            "Wait here," Jesse directed, taking a few bills from the diaper bag. "I'm going to get tickets for you and Nicky. Don't talk to anybody, don't go anywhere. I'll be right back."

            Elena nodded, scared but still game. Jesse walked off to the ticket counter, eyeing the board to determine the best route to give her. Direct was out of the question. Kruger would track her down too easily. He finally settled on a circuitous set of busses that would confuse Kruger but hopefully not be too long for little Nicky to handle. It wasn't easy, thinking in terms of how to handle an infant. It was an uncomfortably responsible feeling. Was this what marriage would be like, being responsible for another person? Jesse wondered if he'd ever be ready, given the life he led. He gave his attention to moving forward in line, waiting to talk to the ticket agent.

            A man sat down on the other end of the bench, ruffling a newspaper into submission in front of him and settling in to read. Elena and he exchanged polite glances, then looked away and pretended to boredom. Nicky stirred, and Elena shifted him to her other shoulder. The child wakened further, and nuzzled her shoulder, feeling safe knowing his mother was holding him.

            Elena stared around her, wondering if this really was the beginning of her new life. She had longed for it for so long, planned to escape even if Jesse hadn't offered his help in response to their mutual friend's plea. Elena hadn't seen Jesse in over ten years, not since they were children, but still Jesse Kilmartin had remembered, and been there for her. Elena had had no idea how she would have accomplished her getaway had Jesse not come forward, but the question was now moot. She was free, free to begin a new life with her son. There wouldn't be the luxuries that her husband could provide, but the one necessity that Raymond didn't offer it all worthwhile: self-respect.

            She could even look at other men without fearing Raymond's anger. Not right away; Elena wanted a bit of time to have to herself first. But _looking_ was no longer punishable by a backhanded blow, or by being locked into the bedroom to await her husband's rage. Or his taunts of the other women _he'd_ been with.

            She could look at this man sitting on the bench beside her, although good manners demanded that she be discreet lest her interest be taken more seriously than she intended. He reminded her of Jesse, though not as tall. But he had the same general physique, the same broad shoulders and sandy-colored hair. Not the same eyes, though. No, these eyes were icy blue, and distrustful, with facial lines that pulled the mouth down. This was a man who was angry with the world. She recognized that look from dealing for too long with her husband. She turned away, rearranging Nicky's blankets that were wrapped around him. He cooed up at her, giving a big smile that never failed to win one back. Elena smiled automatically—she couldn't help it, he looked so wonderful lying there—and shifted to scan the rest of the people in the bus terminal.

            Which is why she didn't see little Nicky go into action.

            With the innocence of an infant who didn't know what he was doing, Nicky saw the shiny blue plastic of a computer disk peeping out of the pocket of the man on the other end of the disk. Nicky wanted it, to touch it, to feel it, to stick it into his mouth and taste it. He didn't know that he wasn't supposed to manifest his mutant telekinetic abilities until later, much later, when adolescence struck. The disk floated free of the man's pocket and over to Nicky.

            Unfortunately, Nicky's control was far from perfect. The disk almost made it to his tiny fist, but dropped and slid down between his blanket and the coat that he was wearing. Nicky, deprived of his anticipated toy, reacted in the usual fashion: he cried, loudly and distinctively.

            Elena instinctively picked her son up and cuddled him. The sobbing stopped, and the toy was forgotten with the fickleness of an infant: out of sight, out of mind. Elena felt something hard inside the blankets, and started to reach for it, to determine what it was that had distressed Nicky.

            Then Elena suddenly stiffened; she saw someone that she hoped never to ever see again in her life. Raymond Kruger strode into the bus terminal, scanning the territory as though looking for someone. Elena had no doubt as to whom he was searching for. How had he known that she was here? His underworld contacts, no doubt. Kruger would use anyone and anything in his possession to get his way, and especially with his errant wife and child.

            Calm; perhaps he hadn't seen her yet. Elena gathered up Nicky's belongings, clutched the boy to her chest, and walked swiftly away. She tried not to break into a run. To do so would be to attract unwanted attention. Elena needed to stay undetectable. She adjusted the scarf around her hair to further heighten the illusion that it was not her. She chanced a look around; where was Jesse?

            She had lost sight of Jesse but she had no choice. To keep Nicky safe she would have to be invisible. Jesse would find her. He would search through the bus terminal, certain that she wouldn't leave without saying good-bye. Beside, he had the bus tickets. Elena couldn't leave without meeting him one last time. Elena headed away, anywhere away, down the concrete corridors to where it grew dark and dim, the part of the bus terminal no longer in common usage. The man she despised wouldn't notice her there, she hoped.

            Kruger spotted the man he was looking for, and advanced on him. Taking a seat next to him on the waiting bench, he pulled up a case.

            "I'm prepared," he murmured quietly, carefully not looking directly at his quarry. "Are you?"

            "Of course." Dusty Brightman stuck his hand into his pocket. To his credit, not a muscle betrayed his dismay. There was nothing there. He felt again; the disk was not in his pocket. He thrust his other hand in the other side pocket: still nothing. Where the hell had the computer disk gone?

Dusty covered swiftly. "But not here," he said. "Too public. Too many people could be watching." He indicated the group of two attractive women and their tall escort who walked in. The three paused and scanned their surroundings. "Like them. Who knows who they could be?"

            "You've been watching too many episodes of _the Sopranos_," Kruger grunted. "Those are normal people, here to take a bus trip. Maybe pick somebody up."

            "No, they're not." Dusty recognized the type, if not exactly who they were. "They're looking around too much. They're looking for someone. They're not here to take a bus trip." He started to get nervous. Were they here to get him? Dusty hadn't had too much experience with organizations who were out to get mutants but what little he had convinced him that staying out of their way was in his best interests. A heightened sense of self-preservation had served him well more than once. This particular caper was higher profile than he liked to maintain, and it made him nervous. It was time to get the money and disappear, disk or no disk.

            Kruger eyed the trio. One was a cute little blonde, tiny little waist, just the way he liked 'em. That blonde, she had to be stupid; or, if she were smart, then she'd be smart enough to act dumb. The other, good-looking but too brainy. Kruger didn't trust women with brains. They got ideas. Look at his wife; she started getting ideas about starting up her own business, like he didn't keep her in enough luxuries. Never satisfied, that one. At least she gave him a kid, and a boy at that. After this thing was over, he'd fix her but good. No more whining.

            The man looked like trouble. Anyone that big, that much in shape, would give Kruger a hard time if he gave him the chance. Those arms looked like they'd have the range and the muscles to reach where Kruger didn't want 'em to.

            But Dusty was right, these weren't kids here to buy bus tickets. They were looking for someone. Possibly the man sitting beside him? It wouldn't be the first time that people had brought trouble to Kruger. But for those three, it would be the last. Kruger made his reputation by being tougher than anyone else around. With a jerk of his chin, he motioned for his four bodyguards to move in.

            Brennan scanned the bus terminal. "Where is he?" he asked rhetorically, as if the other two weren't looking as hard as he was. "Anybody see Jesse?"

            "No, but I do see four low-life's walking purposefully toward us," Shalimar replied. "Anyone you know, Brennan?"

            "Nope. Not me. Not this time. Lexa?"

            "The people out to get me have better taste in clothes," Lexa sniffed. "I don't suppose they're simply four men late for an appointment somewhere across town?"

            "Do they look like they'd care about being late?"

            Brennan sighed. "I suppose we'd better spread out."

            Brennan was the one who got to duck under the first punch. It wasn't hard; he was ready for it, and followed up with a quick jab to the sweet spot. The man went down hard. The elderly lady with a petit point valise by her ankles who had been admiring the young man with the lovely physique, shrieked loudly enough to be heard throughout the entire terminal.

            That was the signal for everyone to notice the melee: more shrieks and screams, many people running away, dragging overstuffed suitcases and children behind them. Three little boys were shuffled out by a harried mother telling them _no, you can't watch the ninjas._

            Dusty Brightman rolled his eyes at the other man seated on the bench beside him. The meaning was clear: _can't take you anyplace_. Trust Kruger to turn a simple exchange of goods into a three block riot.  "Look, you want this disk, or not?" he demanded, glossing over the fact that he no longer had it in his possession.

            "Give it to me," Kruger told him. "I've got the money right here."

            "Not so fast, you idiot, you want people to see us?" Dusty hissed. "I'm gonna go over to that bunch of lockers there, see? I'm gonna put the disk inside. You do the same with the money. We exchange keys in the men's room. Then we walk out of here, and nobody knows what happened." He stood up. "Wait for a few minutes. Don't make it look like we're together."

            "Nobody's watching us, genius," was Kruger's response. "They're all watching the fight."

            Which was almost over. Mindful of the onlookers, Shalimar declined to bounce off of the wall as she would usually do and instead settled for a high kick to her opponent's head. The next kick to his head was aimed considerably lower, occasioned by his helpful semi-conscious slide to the floor. The man's head went from being at waist level to being at floor level.

            Lexa didn't have time to play around with the nice goon. She took him out with a single uppercut and mowed right along. Scandalized parents dragged impressionable daughters away, cautioning them that such behavior was unacceptable if one wanted to find a _nice_ husband. Lexa ignored them; such behavior was perfectly acceptable if one wanted to stay _alive_.

            Brennan finished with the last two and stood up, shaking the pain from his fist. One had had a hard jaw. "I still don't see Jesse," he said worriedly.

            "I do," Lexa said. "He's over by the lockers, putting something inside. Let's go get him before the Back-Up Squad makes an appearance. Jesse," she called urgently.

            Dusty looked around. He couldn't hear the words, but a pretty brunette that he'd never seen before in his life was clearly calling to him. Normally that would be a good thing, but right now probably not. In fact, this whole operation was headed down the toilet. He aimed for the men's room to make it look like he intended to meet Kruger there. Maybe he could still salvage something before everything got flushed for good. He grinned at his own wit; damn, but he was good at bathroom humor. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kruger get up and start toward the wall of lockers. Good. Let's get this whole thing over and done with, so that Dusty could head out of town.

            Jesse ambled back, tickets in hand. He had plenty of time; the bus wasn't scheduled to depart for another two hours. He scanned the benches, looking for Elena and Nicky.

            A sinking feeling started near his throat and burned its way down his esophagus. He couldn't see the pair. What had happened to them? Elena wouldn't simply get up and leave. Something must have happened.

            Something like a fight. Four scruffy-looking men picked themselves up off of the floor. One staggered, another tried to help, and they both ended up back on the dirty tiled floor.

            Jesse leaped to the entirely correct conclusion that Kruger had arrived. How had he tracked Elena and Nicky down? Right now that didn't matter, and it did explain why he didn't see the pair. What was important was that Jesse find them and get them out of here before Kruger grabbed them.

            There Kruger was, at the wall of lockers, stuffing a briefcase inside. There was something wrong with that, but Jesse didn't stop to consider all the details. Right now all he needed to see was that Elena and Nicky weren't with Kruger. He hadn't gotten to them yet, and Jesse intended to make certain that that didn't happen.

            Where would Elena have gone with Nicky? Not out the front door, not with Kruger's goons there. She must have headed down to the departure terminal. Dark, dim, and an easy place to get out of sight. Jesse turned to follow.

            "Jesse!"

            Jesse whirled around. That was Lexa's voice. Good; reinforcements had arrived. He could set them to searching for Elena and Nicky as well.

            Or he could if he could talk to them. His team mates were headed toward Kruger and the wall of lockers. He grinned; he'd bet that it was Lexa who cracked the protections he'd put on his personal e-mails to track him down. She was good, he'd have to give her that. Of course she came to the wrong conclusion about Elena and he but hey, couldn't be right all the time. Clearly they were going over to take out Kruger and prevent him from abducting Elena and Nicky.

            "Over here," he called.

            The three stopped dead in their tracks. Three heads swiveled around.

            "Jesse?" Shalimar was the one to squeak it out.

            Just as clearly Jesse had been wrong in his deduction. They were not here to help their fellow teammate by removing Elena's husband from contention. Then who had they been calling to? And more importantly, who were they after? If they weren't after Kruger, who had they called to?

            "He's getting away," Lexa snarled, pointing at the short sandy-haired man walking away from the wall of lockers toward the men's room. "After him! He has the disk!" She took off after Dusty. After a moment's hesitation, Shalimar and Brennan followed, motioning for Jesse to hustle along.

            Right. The unknown they were chasing had nothing to do with Elena, and that was where Jesse's responsibility lay. He'd catch up with them later. He advanced on Kruger who was swiftly striding off toward the departure gates—and Elena.

            Dusty took one frantic look over his shoulder and spotted Lexa, Brennan, and Shalimar in hot pursuit. He didn't know why the trio was chasing him—he didn't know who or what they were—but he had a well-developed sense of self-preservation based on years of operating on the skinny side of the law. He darted behind the wall of lockers, estimated which locker that Kruger had put the briefcase into, and put his hand onto the back edge.

            Not much time. Dusty exhaled, his eyes going hooded. The back of the locker wavered, shifted, and then crumbled into its constituent parts. Dust wafted to the floor. Dusty reached into the back of the locker to pull out the briefcase that had been in Kruger's possession. Good; got it. Now it was time to boogie. He turned to find Mutant X in front of him.

            Lexa confronted him. "Hand it over." Brennan and Shalimar flanked her, solid back up.

            "Not a chance, bitch," Dusty snarled. "This is mine!" He held up the briefcase. "You don't want to mess with me."

            "I don't care about the money," Lexa said. Brennan winced. "All we want is the disk."

            Dusty grinned evilly. "Sorry, doll. Don't have it."

            "You gave it to Kruger?"

            Dusty grinned some more. "You wish. I lost it. Slipped out of my pocket. Gone for good."

            "You'd better hope that's not true." Lexa knew more how true it had better not be. If the disk had vanished, the Back-Up Squad would come in and wipe out every man, woman, and child in this terminal to make certain that it didn't fall into the wrong hands.

            "Better question, doll: ask me if I care." Dusty held up the briefcase. "I'm history, guys. And if you know what's good for you, you won't follow."

            Brennan and Shalimar widened the circle, enclosing Dusty inside, trapping him against the back side of the wall of lockers.

            "You're not getting out of this so easily," Brennan warned. 

            But Dusty wasn't cowed. "Don't say I didn't warn you." He wiggled his fingers. "More deadly than karate."

            "Really." Brennan wasn't impressed. He chanced a quick look around; no one could see them. "More deadly than this?" He twisted several thousands volts of electricity between his fingers. With a flash of light he threw the lightning bolt at Dusty. It bowled the mutant off of his feet, the briefcase flying. But what made it worthwhile for Brennan was the look of utter astonishment on Dusty's face as he hit the floor.

            Brennan stood over him and picked up the suitcase, grinning. "What, you thought you were the only mutant around?"

*          *          *

            Jesse padded off determinedly in the direction of the departure gates after Kruger. There was precious little other place to go for Elena, and Kruger was close to catching her. The others of Mutant X had seen Jesse; they would follow as soon as they'd finished with whatever tune Lexa had them dancing to. Jesse felt a moment's flash of annoyance with Lexa and the Dominion. He wished the light elemental would make up her mind as to where her loyalties lay: with Mutant X, or with the Dominion. Then he sobered. Lexa had made it very plain; the Dominion owned her.

            The tunnels got deeper and darker. This part of the terminal was rarely used; cutbacks in service meant fewer busses, and the remaining departures all took place on the upper levels. The concrete block walls looked drab and dingy and in desperate need of a fresh coat of gray paint. Jesse squared his jaw. This would be exactly the place that Elena would head for: someplace silent and out of the way, where she could hide and not be seen. He considered calling out to her; no, Kruger would hear him. And Elena, if she called back. No, better to move silently himself.

            He glanced down at the floor, hoping to see footprints in the dust. There they were, two sets of them, one small and dainty and the other large with the clear imprint of the heel of a man's shoe overlapping it. He hastened his stride.

            Kruger saw a small woman and her child in front of him, scurrying ahead along his planned escape route. He grimaced. Someone would see him. Not good; it was time to escape from this fiasco. He'd lost the money, Dusty Brightman was nowhere in sight, he didn't have the computer disk, and he'd lost his temper as well. And now he was about to lose his anonymity, thanks to that witness in front of him. Probably an old woman with that scarf over her head, even with a kid in her arms. Maybe a grandkid, or something. Didn't matter; she was a witness that he was here.

            Not for long. Time to cut his losses. He'd make it up on another deal, though it would be tough. This would have been such a sweet deal, with a wealthy buyer waiting with the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. He'd already made plans for some of the money: invest some for little Nicky's college fund—never could start too early, and he could use a kid with a head for business in today's world whose loyalty to family would be unquestionable—and another chunk on a big diamond necklace for his mistress. Man's gotta cover all his bases, he thought, stuff for now and stuff for the future. He drew his gun, ready to remove the witness from her ability to place him at the scene. He took aim.

            Jesse saw Kruger pull out his gun, ready to fire. He froze in horror; there was no possible chance for him to dart in front and mass to deflect the bullet. Kruger was too far in front. All he could do was to yell: "Elena!"

            Elena's head whipped around in terror at the fear in Jesse's voice. Seeing Raymond Kruger pointing a gun at her with Nicky in her arms, she jumped to the entirely warranted yet erroneous conclusion that her husband had followed her here and was about to take revenge for his abandonment. The only thought she could muster was the frantic concept that Nicky mustn't be hurt. She turned to flee.

            Kruger, for his part, dropped his jaw in astonishment. Of all the people in the world he expected to see at the bus terminal in the abandoned part of the garage, his wife and infant son were not among them. He lowered his gun, trying desperately for some understanding.

            "Elena!"

            Kruger heard Jesse call out. Understanding, however misconstrued, occurred: his wife was running away with another man—taking Kruger's son with them!—and that man was Dusty Brightman. No wonder Brightman insisted on the meet here at this terminal. How long had their affair been going on under his nose? He'd kill them both! He took aim at the man he thought was Dusty Brightman.

            Shots rang out. Jesse had just enough time to phase to insubstantial. The bullet passed through him and bounced harmlessly off the concrete wall, chipping away at the fading graffiti to turn 'SANDY LOVES BOB' into 'ANDY LOVES BOB'. Jesse hoped that neither Sandy nor Bob were especially homophobic, or that they at least possessed a sense of humor for clearly Kruger did not.

            Wait a minute—several shots had rung out. Only one passed through Jesse. Where did the rest go? And more importantly, where did they come from?

            The Back-Up Squad entered the arena, carrying rifles that looked bigger and meaner than anything Jesse had ever seen. One of the four carried a small black box like a Geiger counter, swinging it to and fro, centering on something emitting a tracking signal. Jesse cursed himself; how could he have been so foolish? The money back at Sanctuary, the money that Elena had given him to hold for her that he'd hastily picked up and escaped just ahead of the team: it had been tampered with to send out a homing signal. The Squad was hoping to track Jesse to the computer disk that Lexa had kept babbling about, not realizing that they had the wrong mutant. And now Elena had the money, and the Back-Up Squad was going to kill her, thinking that she had it along with the money.

            Little Nicky squalled. His tooth was hurting, the one that was trying to erupt into his mouth. His mother pulled out the hard plastic blue thing that had gotten into his blanket, and he chewed on it contently, trying to gum the discomfort away.

            "Elena, run!" Jesse yelled. He stretched out into a full-fledged gallop, barreling toward both Kruger and the Back-Up Squad. He had a chance against them; Elena, a mere human, had none. Elena ran, Nicky screeching in her arms.

            Kruger's gun misfired. It blew apart in his hand. He howled in pain and betrayal—"stupid piece of crap metal. Should' a bought American stuff instead of overseas tinfoil"—and threw it away from him.

            That didn't do him any good. Following their mandate of a Scorched Earth Policy the Back-Up Squad did their best to leave no man standing. Three of the four guns trained on Kruger and fired as one. The bonus was that Kruger had already destroyed his own weapon and couldn't shoot back. Kruger jerked as several rounds plowed through him. He tottered three steps, held out his hand to his terrified wife and child, and crumbled to the cold concrete floor.

            The Back-Up Squad turned on the one carrying the tracer signal: Elena, and four month old Nicky. They aimed their guns. Elena froze. There was nowhere to go, no place to hide.

            "Hey. Pick on someone your own size."

            A bolt of lethal electricity careened across the cavernous garage, knocking one of the gunmen off of his feet and into the wall.

            Normally a jolt like that would have removed the combatant from the action for days, if not weeks. Brennan Mulray started preparing another shot to take out the next member of the Back-Up Squad from a distance.

            But the first was no ordinary man, armed with more than ordinary equipment. He picked himself up off the floor, almost casually dusting himself off, and swung his gun into position with super-human speed and accuracy. Brennan yelped in dismay, only barely dodging the return shot.

            "He's grounded," Lexa tossed off over her shoulder, fading into deadly invisibility. "They all are."

            Grounded? That meant that the Back-Up Squad knew exactly who, and what, they were dealing with. Okay, Brennan could live with that. No mutant powers for this fight. Hand to hand only.

            If only he could get close enough. The man that he'd blasted against the wall peppered the ground in front of the mutant with deadly fire, kicking up dust. Brennan shoulder-rolled to the side to escape the lethal hail of bullets, dodging behind a thick pillar doing its best to hold the ceiling up. The sound of gunfire echoed loudly above Elena's screams and Nicky's frightened wails.

            Lexa moved in. Back-Up Squad member number two adjusted his goggles. _Oops_, she thought. _So much for being invisible_. Lexa dove behind Brennan's column, barreling into him. Shots followed her in with little pellets of concrete floor being knocked loose by the gunfire. Brennan grabbed Lexa to keep her from skidding back out into the open.

            "Thanks," she gasped. 

"These guys are good," Brennan returned grimly.

"That's what I told you when this whole thing started."

Shalimar had the best luck of any of them. Seeing her teammates' lack of success, Shalimar approached the Back-Up Squad in a round-about fashion, jumping from spot to spot too fast for any human to follow.

Any single human, yes. But the Back-Up Squad had trained for such antics, and used teamwork. One shot at Shalimar. She jumped away, only to find two others tracking her and anticipating which way she would jump. If one missed, the other might not. And they were coming awfully close. Shalimar joined the other two behind the column; it was getting crowded.

"All right, I'm open to suggestions," Shalimar grumbled.

"Jesse got us into this," Lexa returned. "He should get us out of it."

"He didn't do anything," Shalimar protested.

"He ran," Lexa snarled. "If he hadn't run, I wouldn't have thought that he robbed the bank and started this whole mess."

"He didn't run. He went to help that woman," Shalimar pointed out.

"Details, details."

The Back-Up Squad had turned their attention to the remaining member of Mutant X. Jesse had finally arrived in front of Elena, massing at intervals to deflect the lethal projectiles being hurled at them both. The Back-Up Squad continued to fire patiently, certain that eventually one or more bullet would find its mark. The four black-suited men spread out, opening the range of their fire.

Things looked desperate. Jesse cast around for a way out; there was nothing but concrete wall behind them. Elena clung to him, little Nicky clasped between them, howling and screaming in terror.

There were precious few options. Summoning all of his strength, Jesse placed his hand on the concrete wall and exhaled.

The wall faded.

Seeing their chance, the rest of Mutant X dashed to their teammate. Pushing Elena ahead of them, they whooshed through Jesse and the wall almost as one. With his last effort, Jesse followed them through the opening he'd created, allowing the wall to solidify behind them. He dropped to his knees, gasping for breath.

It was only a temporary reprieve. The room was an employee break room long abandoned, a mere ten by ten area with only a dilapidated sofa against one wall as its only furnishing. The walls were the conventional gray cinderblocks now covered with dust and cobwebs from months of neglect. They were trapped; the only conventional exit led straight back out into the garage where the Back-Up Squad waited. Brennan paced off the dimensions of the small room. "Okay, guys, what do we do now?"

"Wait for them to get bored and go away?" Lexa's sarcastic rejoinder went unheeded. "That is _so_ not going to happen. They'll blow the place up first."

Shalimar squatted beside Jesse and Elena. Jesse had crawled to a sitting position, recovering from the immense effort to open up six inches of solid concrete for several people to pass through. Elena huddled next to him, and Nicky had finally quieted down, looking around him with wonder and choking back the sobs. "And this is—?"

"Sorry." Jesse managed a little smile. "Elena Kruger, meet my friends: Shalimar Fox, Lexa Pierce, and Brennan Mulray."

"Hey," Shalimar greeted her. "Cute baby. Can I hold him?"

Elena was trying not to quake with fear. "Are you all like…?" She trailed off, not certain how to ask what she wanted to know without offending Shalimar.

"Like Jesse?" Shalimar flashed a white-toothed smile. "Yup. Not quite, but similar. Comes in handy sometimes. Like now."

Elena wasn't convinced. "Are we going to get out of this? Alive? Who are those people and why are they shooting at us?"

Brennan peeked out of the door, slamming it quickly when a shot almost slid through. It banged loudly on the metal, echoing and making them wince inside the small chamber. "Getting out alive? Sure thing. Wouldn't have it any other way," he said stoutly.

"Anybody got any bright ideas on how to accomplish it?" Lexa asked sourly. "Didn't I read somewhere about never letting yourself get bottled up with no way out?"

"I'm sorry," Elena started to say, when Jesse interrupted her.

"It's not as though we had a lot of choice here, Lexa. Or would you prefer to be outside, dodging bullets from your friends with the goggles that can see you coming and going?"

"And this is not your fault, Elena," Brennan added.

"But my husband—"

"Sheer coincidence that Jesse happens to look like the guy who stole the computer disk," Shalimar said firmly.

"Sheer coincidence that the guy got caught on tape in living color at the exact moment that Jesse was helping you to escape," Lexa grumbled under her breath. "Speaking of which, where is the afore-mentioned disk?" Her gaze lit on little Nicky. "What is that that he's chewing on?"

"This?" Elena took a closer look, her attention pulled to her child once again. "It's a piece of plastic—"

"No, it's not." Jesse rescued it from Nicky, wiping his hand on his shirt. Nicky howled in protest until his mother found a set of brightly colored plastic keys for him to chew on instead. "It's a computer disk." He looked at the others. "It couldn't be."

"Right color," Lexa said. "We won't know for certain until we stick it into a computer. But how did this kid get hold of it?"

Elena smiled weakly. "There was a man who sat on the bench next us in the main terminal. He looked quite a bit like Jesse. Could it have been your man?"

"Must have been," Brennan said. "Maybe he was afraid of being caught with it on him, and stuffed it into Nicky's blankets intending to pick it up later."

"Good theory. Let's find a way to test it," Lexa said. She struck a pose. "Oh, wait. We can't. We're stuck in here, waiting to get shot. Or blown up."

"Give it a rest, Lexa," Brennan advised. "Nobody, including Jesse and Elena, asked for this to happen. And nobody couldn't have predicted that this Dusty character would look so much like Jesse."

Three shots banged at the door. The metal dented. The Back-Up Squad had decided it was time to come knocking.

"Before they come in," Shalimar said in alarm. "Ideas, anyone?"

"How about if we toss the disk out?" Jesse had to shout to make himself heard over the din.

"They'll take it, and then kill us," Lexa told him through gritted teeth.

"And if this thing really does hold fate-of-the-world stuff, then I'm not too happy with the Dominion having sole possession of it," Brennan added. "Think of another plan. Preferably one that doesn't include dying."

"And make it fast—" Shalimar started to add.

Elena interrupted her. "The wall! Look! It's melting!"

It wasn't melting, it was phasing. Each member of Mutant X instantly recognized the quivering liquidity that preceded Jesse's gift being applied to a solid object. Only this time it wasn't Jesse—it was Dusty. The mutant on the outside was dusting the wall in order to get inside to get the disk. The massive concrete ceiling above them rumbled threateningly.

Jesse leapt to the wall, throwing his hands against the de-solidifying surface and exhaling. Instantly the texture tightened up, but only for a moment. It shifted back and forth as both moleculars applied their particular gifts, fighting for control over the concrete cinderblocks.

It was peculiar battle. It was conducted completely on the atomic level, with each man striving to wield control over molecular bonds, strengthening the bond here, destroying another there. The others could see the strain Jesse was exerting to keep their sole defense intact.

The Back-Up Squad intensified their efforts. Shots banged against the door almost constantly, setting up a din that had their ears ringing. Nicky added his howl to the noise, complaining about the racket.

"We've got to rush them!" Brennan said. "That's our only chance!"

"If Dusty doesn't get in soon, they'll be knocking down the door," Shalimar agreed at the top of her lungs. "And Jesse can't keep this up forever."

Lexa had to concur. "Shalimar, you open the door. Brennan, you and I will throw a couple of bolts. While they're reeling from those, we'll attack." She turned to shout at Elena, "after we're through the door, take your baby and run. Don't look back." She handed her the blue computer disk. "And take this with you. Don't let anybody know you have it, and wipe it clean with a magnet the first chance you get. Understand?" She didn't wait for an answer. The door was looking well-dented. It wouldn't last much longer.

"What about Jesse?" Shalimar asked.

"I heard." Jesse ground out, not giving in to Dusty outside. Sweat beaded on his forehead. "Get yourselves out. I'll follow as soon as I can." He didn't have to add that with the others gone there would be no need to continue the battle. Dusty would be welcome to send this little room into concrete dust. The concrete ceiling would fall in, but Jesse could phase in time to walk out unharmed. He hoped.

"On the count of three," Brennan shouted, so that they could hear him. "One—"

He never got to two. The door banged open, damaged beyond defensible. Shots rang out, ricocheting from wall to wall. Elena screamed. Brennan and Lexa loosed their respective bolts, both of which went over the heads of the crouching Back-Up Squad. The attack had been anticipated by their opponents. Nicky wailed, and Elena instinctively turned to shelter him with her body. Shalimar leapt to the attack, slamming one man back through the door with both feet. She bounced onto the floor, then back onto her feet for the rebound.

Brennan felt more than heard a bullet whistle through his hair. _Close_, he thought. _Won't need a haircut on that side for another two weeks_. He sent another bolt streaming through the door. It knocked one of the suited men back into next week, but—_time flies when you're having fun. Next week is coming early this year._ The man picked himself up and re-aimed his gun entirely too quickly for Brennan's comfort.

More bullets flew through the air. Lexa hit the ground, feeling little puffs of concrete dust flying up to occlude the view. _Won't need my powers to stay invisible_, she thought. _Shrapnel will cover us up just fine_. She scuttled to one side of the room to catch her breath and prepare another bolt of light.

A spray of bullets came in through the door. Elena screamed as one landed not two inches from Nicky, embedding itself in the mortar between the cinderblocks. To Brennan's eyes, the next one appeared to travel in slow motion. He could almost trace its path through the center of the room toward where Jesse and Dusty were still battling it out for possession of the wall. Bright red blood blossomed on the back of Jesse's shirt.

The molecular jerked in shock. He half-turned, his hands dropping away from the gray wall, his jaw opening in disbelief. His knees gave way; with a groan he slid to the floor.

"Jesse!" Brennan shouted, but his voice went unheard in the din. The wall instantly dusted itself to the floor, setting up a cloud of gray dirt swirling in the air.

The heavy concrete ceiling, bereft of a significant portion of its structural support, collapsed on top of them all.

Dusty waited only long enough for some of the dust to settle before wading in. He tossed some of the boulders aside, chunks of ceiling that now would only qualify as construction debris. A speck of blue caught his eye, clutched in a tiny hand. He pounced, and dragged the computer disk away. _Like taking candy from a baby_, he thought. The little hand set up a tiny high-pitched wail; Nicky wanted his teether back, even more so now that Mommy wasn't responding instantly to his cries for help. That tooth hurt!

Dusty didn't care. He had the disk. He didn't have a buyer, but he could find one. Those men in suits, for example. What else would they be here for? He held it up so that they could see as they approached through the settling dust clouds. "Hey, guys. Let's talk about a deal. You interested in a slightly used computer disk?"

Four guns blazed away. Dusty had his answer.

One of the Back-Up Squad picked up the blue disk from his unmoving hand, blowing on the plastic to clear it of the top layer of grime. He cast a glance over the rubble; no movement. He nodded to the others: job complete. Scorched Earth policy carried out. They walked away.

Not quite carried out. A rock moved, and a hand pushed its way out. Another chunk tumbled aside, and a tousled dark head picked himself up. He spotted the four men striding off, blue plastic disk in hand. His eyes narrowed.

"Hey, guys," he called out, half-crazy under the dirt. "You forgot something." A bolt of electricity shot out from his fingertips, and scored a direct hit on the blue computer disk. The man holding it yelped in sudden pain, dropping the now-slagged piece of plastic to the floor.

Good-bye, disk.

Four guns blazed out once again, and the dark head fell backwards into the pile of broken cinderblocks. Dust puffed up, and settled slowly in the now still air.


	4. Flying Off the Handle 4

"Get the dogs in here!" someone shouted. "There's a kid alive under the rubble! Move, move, move!"

A tiny, wailing voice confirmed the diagnosis. Emergency workers dashed in, looking up nervously at the still teetering columns threatening to topple over now that the ceiling was no longer in place to secure them at the top. The whole bus terminal structure was dangerous, and only emergency workers who volunteered were allowed to enter. All of the passengers had already been rescued—bit of luck, there, the police chief allowed. Gun fights tend to cause bystanders to scurry, so the place had been largely deserted by the time the disaster struck. The whole terminal must have been damaged enough by the fight for it to collapse. That, and there'd be an investigation by some civil engineers as to exactly why a load-bearing wall collapsed.

"Got an adult over here, a dead body," another worker sang out, then his tone changed to one of fear. "Jaysus, he's got blood all over him!"

"Bodies tend to do that when you squish 'em under a couple tons of ceiling."

"No, man. I mean this one's _dead_! He's been murdered. Shot up with a few dozen rounds."

The other man was still unimpressed. "Ya think there might have been a couple of mobs shooting it out in here?" he drawled sarcastically, tossing a chunk of concrete away from off of the pile. Then his tone too changed. "This one's alive! Get another team of medic's down here! This one's alive!"

*          *          *

"Get me—ow!—out of here," Jesse grumbled.

Shalimar kissed him on top of his head with sisterly affection, and re-adjusted the sling on his arm. The hospital stretcher was narrow but she still managed to perch on the edge without toppling off. "Tried to. You kept falling over onto your face. Kind of hard to say you're okay when that happens, Jess. People tend not to believe you."

"Yeah." Jesse's face fell. "Guys, I don't know what to say. I couldn't keep the wall from crumbling. He beat me, and dusted the concrete." He looked up at Shalimar. "You okay?"

Shalimar grimaced. "A couple of cracked ribs. Yeah, I'm fine as long as I don't meet up with any more members of the Back-Up Squad. Brennan over there is the best of us all. He's on crutches, but it's not the foot for the gas pedal. Poor Lexa is going to have to walk around with a black eye for a while."

"Make-up will cover it," Lexa grouched. "Mostly. And it wasn't your fault, Jesse," she added with a burst of honesty. "You didn't lose control over the wall; it was taken away from you. Dusty Brightman didn't have a Back-Up Squad shooting him in the back." She sobered. "We're all extraordinarily fortunate that they didn't have time to check that we'd all stopped breathing. The Back-Up Squad doesn't leave survivors."

"Who doesn't?" A new voice entered the conversation as well as the room, a large and rotund man in an ill-fitting dark suit that spoke of too many donuts and coffee since being promoted to sit behind the police chief's desk. "Who doesn't leave survivors?"

"Cave-in's," Brennan improvised smoothly, leaning heavily on his crutches. "We're all lucky to be alive."

"Got that right," the police chief grunted. He flipped his badge open at them perfunctorily before tucking it back into his inner coat pocket. "Ken Hutchinson, chief of police, and no jokes about the name or I'll run you all in on general principles. Now," and he pointed a finger at Brennan, "how do cave-in's suddenly run around in squads?" And when Brennan couldn't come with an answer fast enough, he turned on Jesse. "You're the only one I haven't spoken to. Your friends here danced around the truth while the docs were treasuring-hunting for bullets in your shoulder. You're the one I think I can get answers from. You going to talk to me?" He didn't give the molecular a chance to answer either, turning to the other three. "You. All three of you. Out."

"What?"

"Don't make me repeat myself. Leave. Out. You can talk to your friend here later, assuming I don't arrest him and haul his ass off to jail."

Jesse could see the un-voiced response running through three mutant heads: _like that's going to stop our Jesse from leaving._ Brennan and Lexa managed to keep straight faces but Shalimar had to turn away to hide her smirk. "See you in a few, Jess," was her parting comment.

Hutchinson settled himself on the stool by the stretcher. "Talk."

"Where's Elena?" Jesse asked in response.

"Witness Protection," Hutchinson told him. "You can't see her anymore. Or the kid. Get over her, and fast, kid," he added, completely misunderstanding the situation. Jesse subdued a small smile. Lexa hadn't been the only one leaping to conclusions over his actions.

"She agreed to that? She wouldn't, before."

Hutchinson nodded slowly. "This time she did. Now that Kruger's dead, a lot of competition is crawling up out of the woodwork. They're not interested in her, but they _are_ interested in taking over. She's turned State's Evidence. She'll get most of the estate, what can't be proved to belong to some innocent victims, and she and the kid will grow up someplace else. The kid will never know what kind of scum fathered him." He paused. "Now you. What were you doing there?"

Jesse took a deep breath. This wasn't going to be easy, and his head was pounding as though a few tons of rock had fallen on top of it. _Hah_. "I was helping Elena to escape."

"Having an affair with her?"

"No."

Hutchinson snorted in disbelief. "Then why?"

"Mutual friends." Jesse hoped that the policeman would leave it at that. "I was about to put her on the bus to nowhere when Kruger showed up. Then more gunmen, and it hit the fan."

"You're going to lie there and swear to me that you had nothing to do with the gunfight at the OK Bus Terminal Corral. Right."

"It's the truth," Jesse protested, lying through his teeth and hoping that he looked honest. Lexa always said that he had an innocent face.

"Then why were they shooting at you?"

"Probably because Kruger was." It sounded reasonable. The look on Hutchinson's face wasn't, but Jesse was doing the best he could.

"Right." Hutchinson put his feet down and leaned forward, going for menacing and doing a good job of it. "Here's what I think happened. Kruger was running a gun supply operation. Don't try to deny it; we found his warehouse full of army surplus on a back alley off of Ninth. You wanted in, and you thought going through his wife was the way to do it. Kruger caught you and sent his people to take out you and yours." He tsked at Jesse. "Shame on you. Letting pretty women like those two who were just in here cover your backside. What the matter, can't afford any real muscle?"

If he only knew… Jesse would rather have Shalimar and Lexa cover his backside then any dozen other men he knew. He put on his most solemn expression. "You're way off base, Mr. Hutchinson. I knew Elena as a kid. A mutual friend let me know that she was in trouble, that her husband was abusing her. I helped her get out. And that's the whole of the story."

Hutchinson grunted, unsure of whether to believe him or not. He folded his arms and stood up, eying Jesse grimly. "There are enough holes in that story to drive an armored tank through," he announced, "and I will be investigating those holes. You can come clean now, turn State's Evidence like Mrs. Kruger, or you can fall down one of those holes when I find out what your part in this mess is. Your choice, Kilmartin. Make the right one."

Jesse wished that he could fold his own arms in exchange. The sling got in the way, not to mention the shooting pain when he tried to move it. "I'm telling you the truth." _Just not the whole truth, and nothing but the truth_.

"Your choice." Hutchinson gestured to the sling wrapping Jesse's arm. "You're stuck here for the next few days. Don't count on going straight home afterward. _Do_ count on having one of the city's finest outside your door." The police chief left without a backward glance, but Jesse caught sight of a blue uniform outside his room. Hutchinson paused for a quick word with the officer, and it was the man in blue who glanced grimly back at Jesse. No easy exit there. Especially not with all the security cameras that dotted the hallways of the hospital. Jesse grimaced; it was a set of security cameras that had started this whole mess.

Lexa was the only one who slipped back in after Chief Hutchinson exited. "C'mon," she said.

"'C'mon?'"

"Or do you really like it here? Move it, Kilmartin, before Hutchinson carries out his threat. Brennan and Shalimar are getting the car." She slid a shoulder under his good arm. _Right height for leaning on_, Jesse noted gratefully, trying to ignore the spinning in his head as he achieved upright status.

"Elena?"

"Brennan talked to her, while you were in surgery. She's okay. She's really going ahead with Witness Protection, going to move on with her life and watching the kid grow up to be better than his father. Now," and Lexa gave him a crooked smile. "Watch and learn, Jesse. This is what you do when there are video cameras around."

And the two of them vanished in a flicker of bent light.

*          *          *

"Yo! Chief! I thought you said the suspect was in here."

"He was," came the growled response. "He never left the room. Hell, he wasn't capable of walking. Where is he?"

"I dunno. You want I should put out an APB?"

Hutchinson considered, then sighed heavily. "Nah. Won't do any good. He'll just move on to the next city, see what he can score. War's over, two gangs fighting it out. Let 'em kill themselves off. We're better off for it."


End file.
